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Post by Finn [Mesprit] Daniels on Feb 16, 2014 11:19:39 GMT -5
He probably should have thought this through better.
The small red legendary slid through a wall as yet another psychic stalked passed him, mental antenna twitching all over the place trying to find the invisible intrudor. Even though he was invisible and technically a ghost, he could feel her head turning, feel her seeking for that unusual presence, the taste that didn't belong. Quickly, Mesprit reached out with his mind, clutching at the strings of suspicion as they began to resonate at a higher and higher tempo and pulled them flat, ironing them for good measure. At the same time, he gently increased feelings of contentment and peace until she shook her head and shrugged with a smile and kept going, even beginning to hum.
In about thirty minutes he'd raised the life satisfaction of half the psychic employees at Pravus by 200%. He was not happy about this fact.
The squat digimon let out a little sigh of relief, shimmying out of the broom closet he'd ended up in and back into the corridor, gliding along it as he looked around with curiosity and determination. He had decided, back in the safety of his room where all ideas seemed glorious and achievable, to cause some havoc in Pravus. He wanted to demotivate them, to send them running for the hills, to bring down the man; One protest rally he'd recently attended were pretty clear that the man had to go. Whoever that was. Probably Mckenna. Mezzy had heard he was about in Nada at the moment and had decided he was going to get a piece of Mesprit's mind!
Driven by confidence and a fierce determination Azelf would have cried with pride for, Mezzy had launched himself towards the Pravus headquarters and promptly fled after encountering their defences and almost ending up their new test subject. Deciding it was all about baby steps, he'd decided to drop a visit to the Nada Citadel division; it was a bit smaller, a bit lower key but it was all about demolishing the structure one brick at a time. With successful infiltration he found himself in the science division, all set to bring them down and return power to the citizens of Nada
If only he could work out how to go about it. Initially, he'd tried lowering the staff's motivation by making them depressed and upset, only to discover not only half of them were like that already but they were psychic and completely onto him. Mezzy had quickly fled that situation, though not before reducing them to laughing wrecks. No sign of McKenna yet though, he noted, so they probably hadn't realised they had a wild legendary on their hands, though the labs were a pretty big place and Mezzy had gotten a teeny tiny bit lost. It was beginning to worry him.
His gem began to glow and he shot through the wall to the left as yet another psychic strode past, dressed in a white coat and overalls. Really, how many psychics did they need? Their employment policy must be really discriminatory. With a small frown, he adjusted the persons emotions and looked around, his eyes widening as he dropped a foot in the air in shock.
Mesprit was surrounded by cages stuffed full with pokemon and stacked to the walls. The room was filled with the sounds of whimpers and sniffles as pokemon clung together or writhed in agony. Some were twisted and deformed, screeching and screaming at their nearby companions, while others were barely breathing as odd tubes and pipes extruded from their limbs.
Tears bubbled up in Mesprit's eyes and he dropped another foot, tail going limp behind him as he looked at them all. Then anger heightened in tempo inside him and he rose up slowly, body shaking as the gem on his forehead began to glow dark red. His eyes opened wide and blazed white as he reached out with the full extent of his psychic powers, feeling for all the locks on the cages in the room and then reaching beyond, finding the other rooms in the building and latching onto those locks too. With a big, mental push, he broke the locks, allowing the cage doors to swing open.
“To freedom, my children.” he declared in the best imperial voice he could manage, “To freedom!” The pokemon began to move tentatively at first, then as freedom became more apparent and Mezzy stirred their desire to flee, they all broke out in a wave of legs and wings and tails and eyes. Mezzy followed them, a triumphant grin plastered all over his face until one small thought and one big problem occurred to him simultaneously.
“Now...how do I get them out?”
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Post by Ethan "Enigma" McKenna on Feb 17, 2014 4:42:19 GMT -5
They knew he was there. Pravus had been aware since twelve seconds after Mespirit entered. Once past the outer door, and the guard, the legendary stood out against his surroundings.
Cameras lacked emotions. His powers did little to close their unblinking lens or blinded them. Machines formed the majority of security.
Motion sensors, which were equipped to peer past the visible, followed his movements. Litlte red dots lit up on screens as he passed each one. The alarms that rang, distant from the little god, made certain that all staff were aware of the intrusion.
The President of Pravus was documented as part of the staff on that night. The man had been forced to endure another financial meeting; his budget, ideas, and recommendations were called into question. He was forced to walk the members of the counsel through a series of easy-to-understand graphs and tables. A lunch period, the enforced carbolic intake made little sense with the lack of activity, had pushed the torture further another few hours. By the time the meeting had ended, the meaningless arguments ending with no change in results, the sun had set. It was dark; too dark, supposedly. That did not matter to the predatory eyes set within his once human face. The other members of his retinue lacked his abilities—for the most part.
The guard detail insisted it was too late to complete the journey home. A bed was turned down, a room cleaned, and a desk quickly set-up. A cable was quickly brought. The security system was extended, wrapped around the room, and opened to the Pokemorph leader of the organization. The man had laid down for a brief moment of rest; interacting with those associates, the members of the less logical and organized pieces of the organization, always left him with a migraine. The beeping of the computer, which began as soon as the legendary entered, had not gone unnoticed. “Innuendo, report.” The bird had been cooking some sort of desert. Yellow eyes opened as the noises continued. “There’s an intruder in the basement—rather odd place to go if you ask me. It’s dangerous, but I suppose they don’t know that.” The singsong voice of the Xatu was just as annoying as the prattling council and the beating computer.
“We shall take care of it. It should be simply disposed of.” Throwing off the cover, tail gently lifting one corner, the man dropped to the cool tile. His raptor like feet moved towards the computer. As he bent to examine the screen, face impassive and unemotional, the door threw itself open.
“Sir! The unknown-entity has entered Lab E4!” Cool and just a bit exasperated, Ethan turned towards the man. “I am aware, Harrison. Thank you. ” Claws, following the pattern, tried to determine escape plans. “Sir! We must evacuate!” Frowning at the young officer, shifting his belt, the redhead moved past the man and out the door. The elevator was 86 steps away. The floor was 12 down. “Come, Innuendo. “ The bird entered beside him.
“I wonder if he knows those are infected~” The bird chortled a bit. He was not the least bit worried—brains, like his and his master’s, never lost to simple brawn. The heavy doors opened to a chaotic scene. Ethan spoke, “I think the entity—“ The Pokemorph, leg still supported by a split, was careful not to make identification-related assumptions. “ is now aware.”
Teeth into wing. Something shrieked. The Pidgeot, now missing its wing and flopping like a fish, turned an angry beak on its attacker; the Houndoom lost its eye. With a snarl, flames blossoming outward, it charged the bird. Horns slammed into its fragile and hollowed bones. A whistle, that of crushed lungs, was audible. Bone cracked. Snapped. Blood painted the tiles in tiny little waves and streaks.
Golden eyes did not react. The red brows remained in the same place. The tiniest frown emerged as a Serperior turned a Furret to mush. That would be difficult to clean. Impassive. Uncaring. Infection was little different from war; it required compartmentalization. Then again, with a mind like his, it was far from difficult.
Claw into spine. Fin into intestines. Tail slamming into lungs. Crash! Pop. Splat. Drip drip drip. Blood gathered along the floor. The smell of illness was stronger now. “…I shall deal with the Aggron if you handle the Houndoom.” Both pairs of eyes, one ebony and one green-yellow, flared a brilliant blue. The dragon-type , made of steel, likely felt the dent in its side. It staggered back. The dog flew into the wall, something bent and twisted, and it lay still.
“I could have taken care of it.” The Aggron did the same. The Xatu just smiled harmlessly and peered into the darkness. “I hope you can use a mop! There’s brains and guts all over—“ Unlike his master, the bird had feelings. He chose to ignore the bile in his throat. Psychic-types could corral those emotions into a tightly locked box.
The President gently kicked a piece of claw away. His loafers, now stained in offal, received a brief look of distaste. He hated needless violence, gore, and unneeded chaos. Whatever this creature was, likely a ghost-type, had caused unwarranted trouble. “You are trespassing illegally.” His voice was cold. The eyes still glowed an angry blue. He could sense Mespirit.
“Come out, come out~we won’t hurt you.” The green bird’s words rang with truth. The guards behind them, in the elevator , just might. These were the loyal members to the President; the ones who adored him.
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Post by Finn [Mesprit] Daniels on Apr 29, 2014 17:46:19 GMT -5
[Post is kind of bad, but it's a post! I swear to god I will be active from now on. I ended up almost forgetting about this because work was so hectic. Not sure if I got a bit powerplay towards the end - happy to edit if I've gone too far.] Oh god, was he aware.
Finn vaguely picked up the commotion upstairs, the reaction he had so hoped for, as he curled in a ball on top of a cage, shakes running down his spin. Below, unspeakable things were happening. Finn had tried to intervene at first, when the first pokemon had turned on the other, a limp looking rattata blinking miserably in the darkness. He'd assumed it was shell shock as he'd tried to tear it off a ralts. It wasn't shell shock. No, he'd realised that when the second pokemon had shown aggression, then another, then a fourth, until the entire room was filled with the sounds of bodies being eaten alive. The monsters had captured infected, the poor, miserable results of their own stupid experiment gone wrong, and he'd just signed the death sentence of every single one. This was no rise to freedom. This was a massacre.
Screwing up his eyes and ears, as if that would stop his mind directly projecting the images into his head, hot, angry tears rolled down his fur, soaking into his skin. Heaving sobs almost overtook the nausea as he cried for all of the digimon in the room, mourning each dying gasp that struck his mind like a hammer to a bell. He felt every one. It was painful, horrible, torturous but he endured it. Somehow, he knew he'd be the only one in this building to mourn these creatures.
To Finn's relief, the sounds slowly began to subside. Mesprit had existed almost since the dawn of time, but he couldn't remember it ever moving so slowly. He heard the beep of a door and felt the elevator opening, the cavalry far too late to do anything but try and clear up the mess. Pravus in a nutshell. His gem glowed softly and Finn lifted his head, peering over the top of the cage towards the blinding light of the door. This was a mistake. The light illuminated the remains on the floor. Chunks of flesh dribbling down one of the bars. A clump of fur curled within a crumpled rib cage. The brilliant blue eyes of an persian lying five metres away from their owner. And these new people were making jokes about it! Finn's anger subsided to shock as they flung an Aggron into the wall, followed shortly by a Houndoom in the opposite direction. Seeing its body crumple, bone splintering through its flesh as blood pooled around it, that was the last straw.
His body broke into a violent shudder and he clenched his mouth tightly shut, fighting an acrid taste on his tongue and the spasms of his stomach. Tears slid down his eyes as he looked again, forcing himself to see the results. This was his fault. He had to face the remains of his 'kindness'. He let out a small sob, curling up on the top of the cage as his tail flopped back over his head. Then he heard the man speak again. His voice was cold. Empty. Soulless. His symphony practically empty. Nausea smashed into his throat and his stomach lurched. He fell down behind the back of the cage he was on, splattering the remains of a lettuce sandwich across the floor. He tried not to cry as his stomach again, twisting within him as against his will, more followed. Finn couldn't remember the last time he'd been ill. He forgot how bad it felt.
Luckily, he was out of sight of whoever it was though he had no doubts that the growing smell of rot and sick would alert them to his location. He could tell they didn't know who he was yet by the other voice, a sing-song trill that seemed out of place in the graveyard they were standing in. That was good. Slivering over to another cage, he wiped his mouth with his paws as he forced himself to be alert, to pay attention. Who were they? That was important right now. Grunts? If they were, he'd just flee.
Finn reached out with his mind, prodding at the human and the xatu, it seemed, recognising the bird pokemon from the aura of its mind. The Xatu felt as he did about the situation. He was suppressing his illness but it was there. The human though...he was empty. This scene didn't create any feelings of sorrow or horror, just the mildest irritation at a messy room and disruption to his schedule. The Mesprit's eyes darkened and it glided to another cage, moving close and his mouth crumpled into a snarl when he realised who this person was. He was dealing with the big cheese. The head honcho. Mr Ethan McKenna himself, live in person. He was this monster standing surrounded by corpses who cared more about his shoes than the life of anything around him. Probably wouldn't care if all the guards behind him dropped dead...
With a growl of anger, his gem flared bright red and the elevator doors slammed shut on the guards. Before they had a chance to react, Finn reached for the buttons with his mind and slammed the button for the tallest floor. Bye bye Guards. Well, temporarily. To be thorough, he reached out for their minds, feeling for each individual symphony as it flowed through their heads. Were all of Pravus so emotionally suppressed? It would explain a heck of a lot. Maybe if he ran therapy sessions... He yanked hard on their strings, playing around with them until their emotions became unconcerned bliss. The instant he was done, he turned his attention was back to Ethan.
With a burst of agility, he swooped out from behind the cages, gliding effortless forward until he was three metres in front of Ethan. He pulled up fast, drawing himself up to eye level of the pokemorph as the gem on his forehead glowed a dark red. “Sorry, were you talking to me?” he asked coolly. It was reckless and stupid, the Uxie regulated part of his brain complained, but screw Uxie, she wasn't always right. He glared at the human, golden eyes meeting the humans' blue ones. “So did you keep these as your trophies?” the pokemon added, “Trophies of the time Pravus destroyed the world? Seems pretty cold...but then you do feel like dead man walking. Makes me sick being in the same room as you. Not...not due to the bodies either.” He grimaced, body curling inwards as his gaze flicked down to what he was floating above. "That...I didn't know about that."
When in perspective like this, he could almost forgive Pravus for how it had turned out, seeing as it was led by a zombie. A psychic zombie. Well, almost. His tendril like ears flared as his tail swished back and forth in agitation, fury already beginning to give way to hateful pity. Without thinking about it, he reached out, feeling for the man's own personal symphony. Dizziness almost overwhelmed him. It was barely there, as if it had been suppressed and squashed until it was barely flickering noise in the man's psyche. “Someone needs more music in their lives” Finn joked darkly, and tugged as hard as he could on the strings relating to empathy, using all his strength as a legendary to push past the human's strong abilities. “Feel their pain, dude.”
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Post by Ethan "Enigma" McKenna on Apr 30, 2014 2:52:44 GMT -5
It did not help. Crying over corpses, mindless corpses, did little. These beasts were not his brethren. The old bird had tried to reason; his mind had grasped for a semblance of morality in broken minds. How many times had he tried just that? Friends, some of the first afflicted, hungered to stuff his feathers in their mouths—or beaks. His identity did not matter. The fact that Xatu were gamy things, lacking in taste, did not seem to matter.
The barrier around him crumbled. His beak, which was susceptible to infection, had been cased in a mask of bright blue. His body was wrapped tightly in a similar wall. Sadly, while he was a master of his art, some debris had managed to sneak through; it was only useful if the bird had oxygen after all. Tut-Tut! Banded wings turned upward in the darkness. The white feathers were stained pink; bits of intestine clung to the tips. Something that might have been feces clung resolutely to his claw. “Must they die so messily? Poor dears. Ours were quick at least.” Pushing outward, shoving pieces onto the tracks below, he rubbed a foot against the floor. Screeech! His claws drew sparks.
What the god believed was disrespect, trying to earn a chortle in a blood-soaked room, was truly a coping method. Apathy did little to soothe wounds; his master had also laid claim to that. Jokes? What was more of a laugh than the current situation? Was it not better to lighten the situation? “…is that you? I can sense you..” It was a powerful entity. One ‘arm’ reached out to brush his master’s chest. Ethan, my friend, be cautious. “We will not harm you—we understand what you meant to do. Good-old fashioned prison break—so much death though.” This group was meant to be the next attempted to be cured. Some of the patches worked. Not for long. Just a bit. But it worked.
When the sobs reached two pairs of ears, the unseen god falling behind the cage, the President and his bird mimicked one another. A beak turned downward slightly; ebony eyes filled with compassion. The sounds of hacking, like a cat, drew a deeper frown onto the mouth of the President. “Symptoms would not exhibit yet. It seems to be the result of shock.” The bird, cooing in concern, moved forward. Tap, tap, tap! One wing lifted skyward in what might have been a gesture for peace. Telepathic feelers attempted to communicate. A clawed hand pulled at feathery shoulders. “Leave it be, Innuendo. Just because it is ill does not mean it is powerless.” The smell of illness was apparent. Predatory eyes, the golden one, easily picked up on the location of the mysterious entity. Ethan McKenna disliked disorder. He disliked disruption. He truly had little time for mystery—or foolhardy trespassers.
The psychic-hand likely had the briefest moment to investigate. The bird slammed his defensive into place; it was a wall of thorns meant to entrap his attackers. President McKenna, seconds later, followed. He had little desire to be prodded and poked at—he had enough of that.
The emotions within were dulled. Some part of him understood that sympathy was required. A tear or two, without comprehended cause, moved down his cheek. Some of those Pokemon, soldiers battling the tide of the disease, were friends—acquaintances who held some value. Clink! Something landed upon another cage. The gaze quickly followed the implied movement. A count to some predetermined number would determine his next action. The man would be hurt if his guards or family died; it would not just be a moment of inconvenience—blunted grief would exist as well.
The bright glow prompted the Xatu to react. His brain reached for the elevator. He pushed the open button. This was not good! If these men were not here, the Xatu would be forced to use other individuals. Realizing this was anger in its purest form, likely directed at his calloused master, he threw up what barrier he could. Ethan spurned him—he did not understand. Quickly, emotional walls collapsing, he pushed in a plea. “Do not be so quick to judge, Mespirit.” The Roserade would tear into that skin. The Metagross would delight in each splash through blood.
Tilting his head, apathethic eyes blinking, the President squarely faced the god. “I happened to be talking to whatever entity released calamity.” Flat. Emotionless. Uncaring. A sigh pushed past his lips. “Needless and undesired bloodshed.” The use of the word trophy brought forth pride—it was injured and harmed. “Trophies? The world? The actions of one Elias Janovich destroyed approximately a quarter of the region. This is a sign that things must be done in a different manner; it is my greatest failure.” All he had wanted, once upon a time, was a perfect world—he would have made a better world. The organization needed less emotional reactivity. “I did not imply you were aware.” The psychic walls began to build. Finally, allowing the bird in, they were slowly fortified.
Innuendo had barely half-woven the net when the legendary slammed into it like a cannon ball. The fortifications fell. Something inside his master’s mind was pulled outward. Some part of him, as it attempted to fix the damage, had to chortle. Dude? That is the epitome of this god’s vocabulary?
Yellow eyes blinked. Twice. Something changed within them—a flicker of life, love, and charisma. The strange man, unused to such things, shrank away from the god. The shadow bubbled as it shifted. Momentarily.
Tilting his head, peering up at the god, the Pravus President sighed. “It’s quite a pity to see all this needless bloodshed, truly.” Something shifted in the corner; the feline, missing its eyes and half of its spine, hissed at phantoms. “While I can comprehend their pain—the soullessness—I do not believe they can.” A gun was pulled from beneath his shirt; he had far more than psychic-powers to use. The bullet ended the Persian’s life quickly.
With a howl, hands rising to his temples, Ethan shoved it away. You were not shot. It’s illogical. Leave it be.”
“I truly doubt you understand what you have done. . .these were the closest to a cure we have come.” How many hours of work were represented in these corpses? A tear rolled down his face. It was solitary. Memories of his wife, his son, and the child he now knew never existed, came to the forefront of his mind. “For the failures I have caused, if it soothes you, I apologize. It does not help them in the slightest. What do tears do for these beings?” It was a waste of resources, life, and beauty—tears dishonored it. “Then again ,if we are to fix this—you must break eggs to make omelets. Such an odd phrase.“ Raise the gun. Shoot it. This being is dangerous. The barrel spun harmlessly.
“Ethan--!” The Xatu, slipping in the blood, was drawn short of his hug. Coughing, thankful he had covered his beak, the bird rose to his feet. “Glen.” The elation was short lived. “You’re still a pompous ass.” A sigh and a laugh. “I am quite aware.”
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